


I'd never put anything before you

by writingwords



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, apart from standard Ben Mitchell angst, barely any angst, lots of fluff, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwords/pseuds/writingwords
Summary: Reimagining a scene from the show if they were allowed to touchWhen I say reimagining, I mean overcompensating
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Kudos: 61





	I'd never put anything before you

**Author's Note:**

> it's hard to write a good multi chapter without life getting on top of you, it's much easier to write a one shot of these two snogging, thank you for all the love you've given me so far, feedback is always welcome xx

Ben stares into his bedroom mirror, palms flat against the top of the wooden chest of drawers, his pupils staring back in criticism.

They reflect the same disappointment he saw in Callum’s.

_You’re not going to lose me, Ben._

His heart freezes because he knows he might.

Maybe not today. But one day, Callum’s going to come to his senses and leave, and it will be Ben’s fault. He will do something stupid, like he always does, and Callum will shake his head because he thought he knew him but Ben proved him wrong.

And maybe that’s it.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell Callum even though he had countless chances. Because telling him means showing him a bit more of the real, fucked up, do anything for daddy Ben Mitchell that everyone knows doesn’t deserve love.

Least of all, Callum’s love.

And with his police career taking off, Ben couldn’t help but want to delay the inevitable. Delay the day he’d have to watch Callum stalk off towards better prospects with his police ID in one hand, and the remains of Ben’s beating heart in the other.

The door creaks open, and he sees Callum’s frame in the mirror.

He takes a hesitant step towards Ben, like he’s unsure he should be getting closer, and Ben supposes he’s right to be. If he wasn’t so selfish, he’d take Callum’s face in his hands and tell him _run, run far away from me because whatever you see in me, it’s not there._

But Ben’s always been weak, so weak, for whatever it is that makes up Callum.

Callum might be a bit weak himself, because as soon as he locks eyes with Ben, his shoulders relax and he offers a small smile.

He comes up behind him, “I hate this, Ben.”

He sighs, “Me too.”

He looks over his shoulder at Callum bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. He bites down, once, and Ben’s turned around and brushing a finger against his mouth to stop him.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He whispers, thumbing his lips again before Callum parts them, reddened and chewed and stressed.

“I’m sorry,” he looks away from Ben, looks down at his feet, “About what I said – what I thought, when you, when you asked me.”

Ben fans his hand across Callum’s cheek, presses his fingers into the skin underneath and tries to stay right _there_ , within the walls of Callum’s veins.

“ _I’m_ sorry, for giving you enough reasons to think that. And just, I’m sorry.” He nods his head along with the words, because he _is_ , for everything he’s done.

Callum pulls his lips into a small smile again, lifting his own hand to cover the one Ben has on his cheek.

His hand is warm, steady, grounds Ben into a place that seems unconditional. A place so different to the shaking tightrope Ben is accustomed to. He plants his feet firmly here, tries to give some back to Callum.

“I didn’t tell you cos I wanted to protect ya. But,” he closes his eyes, still not good at the vulnerability thing, but getting better. “But there was probably part of me that didn’t tell you cos I was worried you would put being a copper before me.”

The words spill like a black cloud, thick and heavy and tangled in a multitude of insecurity between the air that the two men breathe.

Ben almost doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes to look up at him.

Callum furrows his brow like Ben’s said something that’s never crossed his mind before and it makes the cloud smoke into nothingness. Just like that. Dissolve out of existence because there was never any weight, any truth, holding it in place.

“I’d never put anything before you.” Callum says, unflinching.

“I know.” Ben replies, blooming from the inside out because of it. He brings his other hand, the one that was on the cabinet behind him, to pick some imaginary lint off Callum’s shirt. “I know, I just, I got to trust you more.”

Callum shrugs, “I gotta trust you more, too.”

“So, it’s agreed, then,” Ben says, upbeat to lift the mood, “We’ve _both_ gotta trust each other more.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, bursting through the bubble of tension, “exactly.”

And they stay like that for a second. Ben’s hand on Callum’s cheek, Callum’s hand over Ben’s, searching each other’s eyes for a _we’re okay, we’re good, we’ve still got each other_.

Callum breaks into a wider smile, glint in his eye.

He moves Ben’s hand from his cheek to his chest.

“I”

Puts his other hand over their joined fingers.

“Love”

Takes Ben’s hand and presses it against Ben’s chest.

“You”

Under Ben’s hand, his heartbeat races at a million miles an hour, pumping out something sappy and soft and breathing life into Ben’s lungs.

He can’t help the grin that splits his mouth and stings his cheeks, looking away as Callum beams at the blush on his face.

Callum squeezes his hand lightly before letting go, and butterflies erupt all over, his words tingling up his spine.

“Say it again.”

And maybe a voice, maybe Phil’s, _tries_ to say something. Shout a _don’t be so needy_ above the thrumming of his pulse but it’s drowned out and then Callum’s fingertips tilt his chin upwards and it’s silenced.

“I love you, Ben Mitchell.” He says against his lips. And even though Ben’s hearing isn’t completely back, even though he’s pretending everything is normal when in reality there’s some new noises he can’t make sense of, there’s still some difficulty in understanding speech to the point where he’s lipreading and hoping no one figures it out because he’s meant to be cured; he hears this.

He hears every word and even if he couldn’t, he would feel it. Because Callum says it again, and his lips drag on Ben’s as he does, and each dip and curve of _I love you, Ben Mitchell_ traces itself on to Ben’s mouth.

And then he kisses him.

It’s sweet, and soft, and over too soon.

So Ben pulls him in by his shirt collar.

He swipes at Callum’s lips with his tongue, and he opens his mouth automatically, sighing into his skin as his hands span the sides of Ben’s face.

Ben drags him in more, so Callum’s leaning down to taste Ben as Ben cranes his neck to taste Callum.

To taste and to keep and to hold Callum in his palms.

A moan bubbles up his throat because he _gets_ to do that, gets to hold Callum. His Callum.

“Mine.” Ben breathes out and he practically growls in response, pushing him against the chest until Ben gets the hint and jumps on it.

Callum mouths the underside of his jaw, muttering _yours_ over and over until Ben can see the words behind his eyes.

Callum’s hands travel lower, stopping at his hips and he’s grinding their fronts together as Ben’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Callum bites at Ben’s Adam’s Apple and Ben lets out a sound and suddenly, Callum’s hard, very hard.

“Guess you brought your truncheon home after all.” He tries to tease him, but he sounds as wrecked as Callum looks.

Callum laughs into the skin of Ben’s collarbone, “You’re terrible.”

“But you love me, though.”

Callum noses the side of his throat before coming up to look at Ben.

He loops his arms around Callum’s neck and gets a blissful smile in return.

“I do.” He says like it’s the truest thing in the world.

And something in Ben’s gut tells him it’s the most honest thing Callum’s ever said and his body jolts in euphoria.

“I love you too.” He says and Callum grins back, blinding, and places his hands on Ben’s thighs.

He leans forward and brushes their noses together, “Good.”

A chuckle tumbles out of his lips, and he wraps his legs around Callum’s middle. “Right, where were we?”

Callum’s hands crawl further up his thigh and then, _oh,_ not his thigh.

“Here, I think.” His voice gravel.

Ben sucks in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon you’re right.”

They’ll talk about it later – he can tell something rhyming with Hardcastle is playing on Callum’s mind. But he’s clutching on to Ben tightly now, and he guesses they both need this, each other, for a while. Before the real world knocks them down again.

So he stores away that conversation, for when they’re spent and sweating on Ben’s bedsheets, and lets Callum have as much of Ben as he needs. All of Ben if he needs.

And later, when he lifts his head from Callum’s bare shoulder, limbs entangled and his palm flat against the top of the older man’s heartbeat, Callum looks down at him too, his pupils staring back in love.

He thinks to himself, before he plucks up the courage to ask about Danny, that _we can get through this, we can get through anything._


End file.
